In Search of a Lotus
by Lindentree
Summary: 9 years after Hogwarts graduation, Cho Chang is a bright, beautiful young woman with a succesful career at the Department of Mysteries. But recently, she has become close to someone. This forces her to let old wounds heal- and to find her lotus.
1. Author's Notes O' Doom

This little fanfic was born of a random plotbunny, which in turn came from my bazillionth reading of Goblet of Fire. I have always liked Cho Chang as a character, and been somewhat curious about her- plus, this gives me the chance to write about someone from my chosen House, Ravenclaw. 

The Legend of the Lotus Princess came completely out of my imagination, although it was probably influenced by many old Chinese folktales lurking in my brain. I did do some research about the appearance and symbolism of the lotus flower (for fantastic paintings of lotus blooms, I encourage you to visit www.chinesepaintings.com- it's snazzy beyond all belief). If anyone has any lotus stories or information to share, I'd love to have them emailed to me.

Thanks much to Qai, my loffly beta and Mistress of All Things Shiny. In Search of a Lotus will not be a long story; I plan to end it at four chapters. Enjoy, and please- leave me feedback. *swoops away in a fiery chariot with paisley stripes* Yayy for randomosity. *waves flag*


	2. Remembrance

The streets were dark and dank and cold, with a lingering smell of fish. The alleyways were quiet as graveyards, except for the occasional yowling catfight over someone's leftover dinner scraps. Lights were switched off, doors were locked; the only movement was that of smoke curling out of brick chimneys. The houses along Frances Way sat like sleeping dragons, guarding their precious treasures of small, be-flowered yards. Somewhere in the depths of one, an heirloom grandfather clock struck 2:15 AM with a series of soft _bonggggs. _

No one stirred as a shadow was thrown in sharp relief against a garden wall. It strode along gracefully, its four legs curiously elongated by the light's projection. It disappeared as it moved out of range of the streetlamp. Had anyone chanced to wake and look out the window, they would have seen what appeared to be an extremely large, striped cat, gradually being swallowed up by the darkness. Had they looked a little closer, they would have known they were deep in a strange dream- Bengal tigers did NOT walk down Frances Way. It simply wasn't a Roaming-Bengal-Tiger-in-the-Middle-of-the-Night sort of neighborhood.

The tiger, whose full name was in fact Lien Cho Chang, was tired, dirty, and extremely irritable. She was growling to herself under her breath, and wishing for a nice, hot bath. _Can't wait __to get home, she thought. __Can't believe I have to walk- if someone from the Ministry see me, I'm dead, dead, dead. 12 more blocks. Agghh, want to get home. She stalked along the sidewalk, rounding the corner onto Greater Filk Street, still mentally muttering and cursing._

Half an hour later, the tiger known to her friends as Cho made her way up the steps of a small stone building, where she looked around furtively, then suddenly transformed into a rather petite young woman, with black hair pinned up into a bun, dark blue eyes, and a very dirty face. She unlocked the door and walked into the hallway, staggering drunkenly up the steps to her apartment. She unlocked her door, then closed and warded it behind her with a mumbled _Clausiocavo and a light flick of her wand. She stepped out of her shoes, walked into the living room- and promptly collapsed on the floor. 38 hours later, she was awoken by the persistent ringing of her phone. _

She dragged herself up off the rug, and stumbled over to the phone. "'Lo." 

"Cho, you're back! I've been a bit worried. You all in one piece?"

Her brain struggled to engage. "…….Neville?" 

"Yes, yes, of course. Are you alright? You sound odd."

"Woke me up," Cho muttered crossly. She was never her best in the morning. She glanced up at the clock- it was 4:45 in the afternoon. "Nev. Um. Got home late. Bath. Food. Talk later." She hung up the phone and staggered into the bathroom. Leaning over the sink, she splashed cold water on her face- she was absolutely filthy, and the pattern of the rug was pressed into her cheek. She stripped off her simple robes, and waved her wand over the bathtub. Water and orange-blossom scented bubbles immediately began spewing out of the faucet. She lowered her aching body into the water with a long, drawn-out sigh of pleasure. It had been nearly three months since she'd had a real bath. She laid her head back against the side of the tub and stared at the ceiling, which was decorated with a painting of a Chinese flower pond- she'd painted it last year on an impulse born of total boredom. The blossoms in the painting seemed to shimmer against the cool blue of their pond, and the warm water lapping against her neck felt like absolute heaven. The only sound was a light pattering against the window- it was raining outside. The scent of the bubble bath filled the tiny room so it smelled like an orchard in full bloom. Sound and sight and smell and feel. Mmmm. At peace, Cho drifted back to sleep. 

An hour later, the phone rang. Cho, jolted out of a pleasant dream, sat bolt-upright in the now freezing water, and glared out the bathroom door into the living room. "I hate you, Neville Longbottom!" 

She defiantly waited until the phone had stopped ringing before climbing out of the tub. She wrapped her shivering body in a thick towel, and made her way into her tiny bedroom.  

Her closet was fastidiously organized by color and style of clothing. Reaching in, she plucked out a cotton dress of deep rose. She slipped it on and walked over to the antique dresser. She brushed out her long black hair and pulled it back off her face with an enamel barrette. She applied mascara, lip gloss, and a touch of blush to sharp cheekbones, then used a simple charm to get rid of the smudges under her eyes. It wasn't so much that she was a vain woman; she simply believed in taking pride in a neat and attractive appearance. It was something that confused many- she was a small, elegant woman who could survive in a jungle with nothing but a canteen of water and her wand, who dated often but was never attached, who was full of energy yet always held onto a certain calm. Every movement and gesture she made carried the same quick, deliberate grace as that of the tiger. No one had been very surprised at her chosen animal when she'd first registered as an Animagus. Something of a mystery, people said of Lien Cho Chang. An interesting woman, and a strong one. Well liked, but not well known. A puzzle indeed. Only appropriate of an Unspeakable of the Department of Mysteries, they whispered behind their hands- those types can't let anything away. Top-secret, you know.

Cho stared at herself in the mirror for a moment. With her usual guard gone, she looked tired- the kind of bone deep tired that has nothing to do with sleep. This last mission had taken its toll on her. Perhaps a vacation was in order. Perhaps she should consider a bit of desk duty. Perhaps, she thought with an inner sigh, she should call poor Neville back.

_After I've eaten something, she thought, making her way into the kitchen and opening the refrigerator (which was in fact just a large white cupboard, spelled to remain cold). Opening the door, she winced. Not so much as a speck of anything edible. She poked around in the cupboard until she found a package of lo mein noodles, a can of water chestnuts, a package of moldy bread, and one oddly non-rotten tomato. She put water in a pan on the stove and tossed in the noodles. "__Coqueo." The pot began to bubble merrily. She drained the noodles into a blue pottery bowl as soon as they were done, and added in chopped tomato and water chestnuts. After she sprinkled a light pinch of salt and ginger over the bowl, she dug in with a will. It tasted like celestial ambrosia._

Half an hour later, the kitchen was clean and tidy, with a neatly written grocery list sitting on the counter. Cho settled herself on the emerald-toned divan in her living room. Picking up the phone, she dialed Neville's number. He picked up halfway through the first ring. 

"Cho? Is that you, finally?" he asked, sounding rather testy.

"Yes, it's me. Sorry about this afternoon- I didn't get home until almost three in the morning last night- no wait, the day before. I'm fine, just a little tired and scratched up."

The anger immediately drained from his voice. "Hey," he said softly. "You sure you're alright? I know you can't tell me much about the mission, but…was it bad?"

"Yes." She told him shortly. "It was." She heard Neville give a little sigh on the other end of the phone.

"Can I take you to dinner tomorrow? Just some rest and relaxation time, no pressure. We should talk."

Cho picked up a small figurine off the end table next to the couch. It was a little girl, holding out a large lotus blossom as though offering it to someone. Carved of pure Chinese jade, it was the color of a ripening lime. Cho ran her thumb over the petals. 

"Why don't you come over here, Neville. Tomorrow, around eight. I'll make some kind of dessert, and if it isn't raining, we can eat it out on the balcony. Alright?" She closed her hand around the little jade figure.

"That's fine with me. I'll take the Express down to London from Hogsmeade. I've missed you- Lien."   
  


Cho heard a light click as he hung up the phone. She expelled a shaky breath. In her 25 years, there had been a total of four men who had called her Lien. Her grandfather, her father, now Neville. And Cedric. 

She closed her eyes tightly and wrapped her arms around her legs. Settling her cheek on her knees, she stared at the wall. There was a photo hung there. It had obviously been taken at night, and depicted a little area of water covered in lotus blossoms. They seemed to glow, releasing a pale blue luminescence in the moonlight. Like pearls dropped in the tears of sapphires, Cho remembered; that was what how he had described the color. 

The memory resurfaced, as clear as pixie crystal. Her fifth year at Hogwarts; she had been dating Cedric Diggory for two months. They had kept it quiet, not wanting anyone to give them a hard time. Until just before Christmas, when he'd asked her to go to the Yule Ball with him. She was sixteen, and wildly in love- and not a little unnerved. She hadn't ever dated much, and had been quite content with her female friends. 

Then she and Cedric had shared a compartment on the Hogwarts Express, at the beginning of the year. She was 15, he 17. They had talked about everything- a long, rambling conversation that lasted the length of the trip. Once they arrived at the castle, they had parted company in the Great Hall to sit at their own House tables. 

The first day of classes, Cedric had waved to Cho in the halls, and then worked his way through the mill of students to ask her if she had any free time that evening. He had a brand new telescope to try out, and wanted her to come with him to the Astronomy Tower. She had agreed, somewhat warily- the Tower was a notorious Lovers' Lane. But to her surprise, she and Cedric had enjoyed a two hour conversation about astronomy, an interest they shared. They fiddled around with the telescope, talked, made jokes. 

Cho came to realize two things over the next couple of months: Cedric was someone that she felt absolutely, completely at ease with- a rare thing for one of the Changs, who had a long Unspeakable history and were taught from the cradle to always be on their guard. Second, Cedric was a gentleman. Not the fussy, kiss-your-hand, open-the-door-for-you type- that would have made Cho vastly uncomfortable- but simply a good man to his bones. 

As they became closer, Cho let her guard slip further and further. The week before the Yule Ball, she had told him her name, and the story behind it. _Lien. Lotus. He was the first man outside her family to have her permission to use the name. _

On the night of the Ball, she had been drunk with happiness- everything seemed sharpened, magnified. Colors, all different shades, swirled around her. It was like being in a garden of sound and texture and rainbow. She and Cedric had danced every dance, spinning and twirling all around the Great Hall. During a lull, he had taken her hand and led her outside. "Where are we going?" she'd asked.

"It's a surprise," he'd answered, with a grin and a kiss. 

They'd started walking in the direction of the lake, then around the edges, leaving the lights of the castle further and further behind. Almost at the opposite end of the lake, they reached the edge of a willow thicket. Cedric pointed his wand directly at the trees.

 "_Separo__ Arboreum." _

A narrow path appeared in the tangle- though it was really more of a tunnel, as the tops of the willows were still thickly intertwined overhead. Cedric smiled. "Ladies first." 

Cho began to pick her way down the little path, Cedric's hand at her waist. There was some sort of light at the end. A minute later, she came out on the bank of a tiny inlet, tucked back out of sight of the castle. The surface was covered with close to a hundred lotuses. She simply stood and stared.

"Do you like it?" Cedric had asked her, his voice quiet. "I looked up a spell to make things grow quickly in water, and begged the lotus starts off of Professor Sprout."

"It's beautiful." She knelt down, touched one of the waxy petals. "One for love," she murmured to herself. She looked up at Cedric. He offered his hand to help her up. They stood facing each other.

"Merry Christmas, my _Lien." He whispered it into her hair as he pulled her tightly against him. He had held her while she cried, cried as she hadn't since she was eight years old. _

Hours or maybe minutes later, he had taken her back to the castle, and had led her to the Hufflepuff common room. It was largely deserted- nearly everyone was still out partying, or tucked into a corner of the garden. It had been an easy thing to make it to his room undetected. They had made love for the first time. Cho had never regretted this; it had been right for her. 

Six months later, on the morning of the Third Task, Cedric had come up to her at breakfast and handed her a small package, wrapped in blue tissue paper. 

"Late birthday present," he explained. 

Cho had laughed. "I turned sixteen in November, Cedric. Over six months ago."

"I know, but..….an Unbirthday present, then." 

She had pecked him on the cheek, then run like hell to make it to Charms. "See you tonight!" she'd called over her shoulder. And she had. She had wished him luck before he went down to the field and entered the maze. It was the last time she saw him alive.

After midnight, unable to cope with the sight of Cedric's mother's silent tears, or her friend's attempts at comfort, she had escaped to her room. She curled up into a little ball on her bed and wept as though something inside her was broken. A petal of her lotus had been plucked and tossed to the wind. Love. Gone just like that. 

In the morning, she had awoken slowly. Sunlight filtered in through the window to her room, but she felt no warmth. It was then that she had spotted the little tissue-wrapped package, still sitting on her nightstand. She had been running late getting to the field for the Third Task, and had set it there to open later. She snatched it up and tore at the wrapping paper. Her hands gentled as she saw what was inside. It was a photograph of the lotus inlet that Cedric had created for her. They had visited it many times since he'd first shown it to her. The picture frame was made of carved jade- filigreed, so it consisted of tendrils that curled around mother-of-pearl lotus blooms. It must have taken him forever to find. A small piece of parchment was attached, with a note scribbled on it: _Got Colin Creevey to lend me his beloved camera! Hope you like it. Love you. –C._

Still staring trancelike at the photo on her apartment wall, Cho gave into the grief that had been buried deep inside her for nine long years. It hurt. Oh, how it hurt. But somehow, acknowledging the pain and letting it out was like releasing a pent up breath. A lone tear tracked down her cheek. The lotuses continued to glow, captured forever in an image of utter peace and beauty. And the woman named Lien stood up and went to bed. 


	3. Dreams

_Cho's__ sleep was fretful and broken, her restless thoughts like shards of a broken mirror. Her dreams were filled with voices and thoughts, all seeming to fly at her from every direction. Words, images, echoes, faces, phrases, ideas; they swirled around her in a colorful melee, like butterflies caught in a stiff breeze. Finally her mind lulled, and she felt a floating sense of serenity. In her small hand-carved bed, her tense body relaxed back into the pillows._

Papa was smiling down at her. "Birthday tomorrow, sweetheart! Five years old. Why, you're practically an old lady! Soon you'll be getting wrinkles, and your hair will be turning white as snow." He playfully grabbed a handful of her thick black hair and tugged on it.

Cho wrinkled her small nose at him. "I am not, Papa! Who's coming for my birthday? What are we doing? Tell me again, Papa, tell me again!" She bounced up and down on her bed; she loved the feeling of almost flying, and the sproinging noise when she landed. Higher and higher she went, until she could almost touch the ceiling.

Papa laughed, catching her at the top of her bounce so he could pluck her right out of the air. She squealed with delight. Squirming out of his hold, she danced over to her dresser and picked up a round, flat object. It was a candle of white wax, carved into the shape of a lotus. But instead of the normal pattern of petals, the candle was shaped like a spiral, with tiny petals in the middle winding out to bigger ones at the edges. Each petal had a tiny piece of aquamarine in the center, and a number carved upon it- one through eighteen. When she touched the little blue jewels, they showed what she had or would do in that year of her life. She poked one small finger at the jewel in the petal marked 'two'. A tiny image of her two-year-old self floated above the candle, waving and giggling. "Look, Papa! Look how tall I am_ now! I GREW."___

"So you did, my little Lien. Grew like a willow tree, fast and strong." He picked her up, settling her in his lap as he perched on the edge of her bed. "And now you need to go to sleep. Tomorrow, Grandfa will be here, and your mama will make all your favorite things for lunch. We'll have a picnic by the lotus pond."

"And Grandfa will tell the story, right? My story, about the lotus and the beautiful princess?" she asked, bouncing excitedly.

"No, my small and demanding one," said her father solemnly, "The one about the three-legged chicken and the monk with the purple hair."

Cho chortled with laughter. Papa swooped her up in the air like a plane, then dropped her into bed. He pulled up the blankets and tucked them around her. 

"Sleep tight, Lien. When you wake up tomorrow, you'll be a whole year older."

She raised her head to kiss him on the cheek, then snuggled down into her pillow. Papa waved his wand over her light. It blinked out, leaving her room awash in darkness. 

She heard the door shut, and Papa's footsteps receding down the hallway. Her mother laughed as Papa said something to her. Cho's mind drifted, like a leaf on the surface of the lotus pond. Her eyes fluttered shut, and her breathing became even …

… and she held out her hands in the darkness. A small ball of blue light pulsed gently there. The ball and she both began to rise into the air, rising up towards the ceiling. But there was no ceiling, only the sky shining serenely overhead, picked out with thousands of stars. She rose towards them, going higher and higher until it seemed that she would simply burst through the sky any moment, coming out on the other side of her imagination. Then she stopped, and simply hung suspended. In her hand, the ball of light began to glow brighter and brighter, until it looked like a miniature moon. Then it cleared and became a bubble, and inside the bubble stood an old, bent man with a long grey beard and twinkling dark eyes. His face was a study in lines and creases, and gave an impression of great kindness and wisdom. He was speaking in a melodic voice, and gesturing with calloused yet elegant hands. 

"… and in that province in China, there lived a wise Prince and his wife. They wished and hoped for a child, but though many years passed, they were never blessed with one. But one day, a young beggar-man came to their palace. His name was Long, and he was a gardener, he told the gatekeeper; he could use blossoms, water, and stones to create poetry for the eye. 

Amused at the description, the prince had the beggar called into the throne room. Long bowed before the prince, and told him that, given a chance, he would make the palace grounds look like those of the Emperor himself. The prince was skeptical, but wanted to do something to cheer his wife- their lack of a child had caused her to fall into a deep depression. So the prince hired Long, in all his dirt and rags. He was given a small room near the kitchen, clean clothes, and a silver coin for his first month's pay.  

Long went to work immediately, and in time the palace was surrounded by beautiful gardens and trees. Everything was stunning, but his greatest work was a lotus pool, built on the east side of the grounds. The pool was an elegant and lovely creation, with a waterfall trickling down into one corner and many lotus blossoms scattered across the surface. A sense of peace drifted over all those who sat on the rocks and grass surrounding it, and they were often lulled gently to sleep by the musical tinkling of the waterfall. When they awoke, it was always with a smile and a lighter heart.

One morning, Long requested an audience with the princess. He knelt before her, and told her that he had heard of her trouble conceiving a child.

"The servants say that for many years, no young one has graced the halls of your noble home," said he. "But I know a way to make this change."

The princess simply stared at him in disbelief. "I could have a child? You could cause this?" she asked incredulously.

Long nodded. "In the morning, I shall bring you a flask of water from the lotus pond. Drink it, and in nine months, you shall hold a baby in your arms."

The princess was skeptical, but agreed to try it. And so the next morning, Long brought her water from the pond, carried in a beautiful silver flask etched with ornate dragons. The princess drank every drop.

Two months went by, and Long continued to care for the palace gardens. Then one evening, a maid came to him and said he was wanted at the palace. When he arrived, the prince and princess were waiting for him with faces wreathed in smiles.

"Long, you are truly a bringer of miracles," exclaimed the prince. "My wife has just told me that she is with child, and we have you to thank. I know not what magic this is, or how you learned it- but you have my eternal gratitude." There were tears in the princess' eyes. "As you have mine," she murmured. 

And Long, with a secretive smile and a bow, accepted their thanks.

Seven months later, the princess gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. Long was summoned to the princess' chambers to see the child. 

"We wish you to name the baby, Long," said the prince. "Without your help, she might never have been born."

Long looked down into the small face. Tiny bright eyes peered back up at him. "Lien," he murmured. "Her name shall be Lien."

The prince nodded in approval. "Lotus," he said thoughtfully. "Very fitting."

"I bid you to bring her up wisely, Highnesses," Long told them, suddenly sounding like a very old man. "So that she may have knowledge, humor, understanding, balance, and purity- always balance and purity. So she may bring joy and peace to all she touches; always remember this." He bowed to the prince and princess, and as he bowed, he changed, his body rippling and changing until he was no longer a man, but an enormous dragon with shining scales.

The prince and princess cringed back in fear.

"Do not be afraid," said the dragon, in a voice that was like high cloudy mountain peaks and swift streams and summer rainstorms. "All blessings be upon you and your child. You need not fear me, you who took me in when I was no more than a beggar." One giant silver claw reached down gently towards the baby, who looked up in infant complacency. Something shimmered and melted from the end of the claw, like wax dripping from a hotcandle. The drop fell down towards the baby, and landed on her blanket. It was a small pendant shaped like a lotus blossom, made of crystal and pearls and moonstones. It glowed softly, then faded. "Farewell, Lotus-child," rumbled the dragon. "May you discover your roots, and all the petals of your lotus." And with these cryptic words and a soundless explosion of ruby red smoke, he vanished.

Years passed, and Lien grew up into an accomplished and wise young woman, beloved to her mother and father as well as all the surrounding villages. When she was sixteen, she met a young man named Quon from a noble family that lived near her home. He had come to the palace for a great New Year's feast, and he and Lien immediately became the greatest of friends. And so with her best friend and her family at her side, her life was a happy one.

Until one day in her eighteenth year, when everything changed. Lien was walking alone through the gardens, making her way towards the lotus pool. Upon reaching it, she sat down in the grass and dipped her fingers in the cool water. The koi fish that lived in the pool scattered and hid under leaves at the disturbance; they seemed a reflection of her own troubled thoughts. 

For weeks, she had felt a sense of slight discontent, as though she were reaching for something just beyond her grasp. A missing piece, the one thing she needed to complete her happiness. The feeling stayed with her, making her frustrated and confused. She had come to the lotus pool to sort out her thoughts, and perhaps find an answer. 

Leaves drifted lazily down into the pool, scudding across the surface like so many small boats. Small birds rustled about in the trees, singing their soft evening songs. The stillness was shattered abruptly by a voice. Startled, Lien looked up- and there stood Quon, smiling down at her. And with an almost audible sound, everything fell into place. She was in love with Quon. Relief and a little fear washed over Lien; this was unknown ground. She smiled back up at him, and there was a certain something in the smile that gave him the courage he needed. Kneeling down beside her, he told her of his love for her, and asked her to be his wife. 

Like joyful children, the couple ran across the grounds and into the palace, and requested a formal audience with Lien's father. When the prince entered the throne room and seated himself, Quon bowed humbly before him and asked for Lien's hand in marriage.

The prince's face grew grave as he listened to their request. He had known in his heart that things would come to this; though Lien had not yet discovered her feelings, he had seen the light shining from her every time she set eyes on Quon. He looked down at the radiant, anxious faces of his daughter and her beloved, and gave a deep sigh.

"There is something about you, Lien, something about your birth, that I should have told you a long time ago," he said. "It concerns the pendant you wear around your neck. Be seated, and I will tell you both the story."

With a sense of foreboding, Lien looked down at the pendant of moonstone, crystal, and pearl that lay against her skin. Her father began to speak. He told Lien and Quon of how the dragon had brought about Lien's birth, and of the words he had spoken before he disappeared.

"So you see, my daughter, he wished you always to remain pure. You are meant to bring joy, as you have done for all your years. You cannot belong to any one man, but to all; you can never marry, for you must remain pure and untouched for all your days. This is your blessing- that you may bring peace to your people. It also binds you.  I am sorry, my daughter. I cannot grant the request you have brought before me." The prince's voice held a note of finality as he spoke, and when he was finished he turned his back and retreated into his private chambers, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Lien and Quon stood stunned, with twin expressions of shock on their faces. 

"What shall we do?" Lien finally asked, her voice quiet. 

"We must find this dragon, and ask him for his permission," Quon said with confidence he did not feel. "We should start right away."

"We'll leave tonight, and let no one see us," said Lien. "Otherwise my father will insist on keeping us here or sending guards with us."

Quon nodded. "I will meet you after the moon rises, by the lotus pond."

And so several hours later, the lovers met at the edge of the pond. Quon bore a sack with clothes, blankets, and food; Lien a bag containing coins and several of her jewels. They set out on the road, setting a course straight for the mountains. The pendant Lien wore glinted and shone in the moonlight as they walked. At dawn, they hid in a field and slept wrapped in their blankets. After a breakfast of sweet rice balls, taken from the table at the previous night's dinner, they set off again. They followed this pattern for a month and a day, taking what food they needed from fields, and leaving a coin or jewel where the farmer would find it. They washed their clothes in streams, and slept curled together for warmth. Always they took the path Lien said they should; she seemed to feel instinctively what direction would lead them to the dragon. 

At long last, after they had been walking up a steep, rocky mountain slope for five days, they came to a hollow tucked up against a cliff near the top of the mountain. Though it was surrounded by ice and snow, this hollow was warm and filled with grass; a little spring bubbled and shone in the center of it. The spring itself was surrounded by brilliantly colored flowers, all, unblemished and glossy. Every color seemed to be in its purest form- distilled to an unworldly perfection. The air was sweet with fragrance, and seemed to shimmer. It was as though every drop of sunlight from every beautiful day since the beginning of time had been preserved, and later released in this one small place. Exhausted and overwhelmed, Lien and Quon collapsed at the edge of the spring. 

"Look," Lien murmured softly, pointing at the cliff. It bore a beautifully ornate carving of a dragon and a lotus blossom. "This is the place. This is what we have been seeking."

No sooner had she finished speaking than the air filled with a swirling cloud of light. The whole world seemed to glow, the air growing brighter and brighter until the two were forced to shield their eyes. When they could see clearly again, a towering dragon stood before them, curiosity in its great wise eyes. Lien knew immediately felt an immediate recognition; she was connected to this being.

"Lotus-child," spoke the dragon, in his voice like mountains and streams and rain, "Why have you sought me out? And why have you brought this man?"

Lien bowed before him. "O wise dragon, I have a question and a request for you." 

The dragon nodded his great head, scales flashing crimson and sapphire. "Speak," he said.

"This is Quon, and he is the man I love. We wish to be married, and went before my father to ask his permission and blessing. But my father instead told me the story of my birth, and of your words to him and my mother. He said that it is my fate to always remain pure and untouched, attached to no one person, but to exist for the good of all."

The dragon looked startled for a moment, then began to laugh, a deep sound like rolling thunder. 

Lien and Quon looked on in confusion at the dragon's merriment, until finally he stopped.

"I am sorry," he said. "It is simply that I never imagined my words would be interpreted in this way. It is not as I meant them to be- a mistake of mine, to forget the creativity and confusion that is a constant part of mortals' thinking."

"Then we are allowed to marry?" asked Quon wonderingly, speaking for the first time.

The dragon's eyes fixed on him and held his gaze for a long moment, as though looking into his very soul. "Do you love this woman?" he asked.

Quon looked at Lien, standing quietly next to him. "More than anything, Wise One," he answered. The dragon nodded approvingly. 

"Lotus-child, come look in the spring," he ordered suddenly. 

Lien obediently stepped closer to the edge of the spring, and looked down into the water. The dragon gave a casual flick of one claw, and a lotus appeared, resting serenely on the surface of the water.

"Look at this lotus," he told her. "It represents all that I believe in, and all that I have given you. You see that it is elegant and beautiful, yet strong and difficult to destroy. It floats gently on the surface, and is never swamped by the water. It is exposed to the sun, and the breezes blow upon it; yet it has a deep and strong root that keeps it always connected to the earth. 

It is a flower that a young peasant man may pick for his sweetheart, and at the same time a flower revered by the greatest gods. And this, you see, is what I meant by purity; not purity of body, but a state in which, no matter what should occur in your lifetime, you shall always have a deep sense of self and prupose. I wished you to bring beauty and a joyous glow into the lives of all who know you, as the beauty of a lotus blossom does. When you have found true happiness, and your balance on the waters of your life, as this lotus balances on the fragile surface of this pool... when you have attained this balance, you will have a sense of peace that will stay with you always. And for each thing that is important in your life, each thing that is vital to you and helps you to find your lotus- there is a petal." The dragon gently touched a claw to several petals on the pendant around her neck. As he touched each one, a character appeared above it.

"Family," said he, naming each petal. "Love. Work. Friendship. Learning. Art. These are all things that will balance you; when you have found them, you have found your_ lotus. And when you have, so shall you extend help and wisdom to others. The world is not always a happy place, Lotus-child; it is in need of you. I have given you a gift by which you may attain your lotus, your purity of the kind men often know nothing of. From this time on, there will be a Lotus-child in every generation of your family. Always she shall be named Lien, and always she shall wear this pendant. This scroll will help you and your future generations to remember what I have said, and the meaning of the lotus," he told her, handing her a scroll of soft brown paper. "The paper is made of lotus blossoms whose time has ended; it will never tear, nor the writing upon it fade. Now you must go back, you and your love. Show this scroll to your father should he disbelieve you, and all blessing come to you and your children. Be at peace, Lotus-child."  _

With that, he was gone. 

So the girl called Lien returned home, explained her tale to her father, and married Quon one summer evening by the lotus pond with all her family people bearing witness. She was beloved by all throughout her life; when she passed on to the next world her people mourned her, remembering her as a bright and extraordinary presence in their lives. And so are all Lotus-children remembered- never truly dying from the memories of those who knew them. This Lien left behind four children, three bright, wise boys and a clever little girl… a girl named Lien, who woke up one morning after her mother's death to find a beautiful pendant resting on the pillow beside her. She put it on, and began her own journey in search of a lotus.

"And so it passed, for thousands of years. And so it passes to this very day."

As the old bearded man stopped talking, the bubble in which he had been standing suddenly popped. The old man began to fall, plummeting down out of the sky. Cho watched him with a sort of detached horror as he fell and fell and… 

…he was standing right next to her on a patch of grass by a pond. The sky above was bright and sunlit with a few clouds scudded slowly across, like fluffy sheep being driven by a lazy shepherd. He ruffled her silky black hair, laughing as she jumped up and clung to his legs. 

"Tell it again, Grandfa,_ again!" she cried. He chuckled._

"No, little one," he said. "You cannot spend you entire birthday just listening to me tell a story!" 

"But it's my story, isn't it, Grandfa? Isn't it?_ I _am the Lotus-child, just as Aunt Tao was before she went away into the sky!" She hopped around until she tripped over her shoelaces, and lay sprawled out on the grass.

Grandfa picked her up and settled her small form in his still-strong arms. "It is indeed your story, my Lien. But now we need to go in- your mama has made enough food for a hundred starving children, so we must start eating!"

Cho's mind was instantly turned from the story by the thought of food. She scrambled down out of Grandfa's arms and scampered towards the house. 

But in a split second, she was no longer a small child on her sixth birthday, but a nine year old running screaming towards a different house- a house on fire. Red and orange flames rose and capered over its wall and roof in an obscene dance of destruction.

"Grandfa! Grandfa, where are you?" she cried, panicking.

"Here, Lien," came a feeble voice, not at all like the strong, lively one that told her stories and laughed with her over silly jokes.

She stumbled over to a little building, a playhouse that Grandfa had built for her to play in when she was here visiting him. He lay inside, coughing weakly. 

"Oh, Grandfa," she sobbed. "Please be alright. Please, please be alright."

Grandfa reached up a hand to stroke her hair. His hand shook; his face was streaked with soot and his breathing was shallow. 

"I'm fine, little one. I got away- but not for long, I am afraid," he whispered. "Lien, you cannot stay here- you must hide, hide before they find you! They may take me, but they must never take you. Go to the Dragon Tree, little one- go in and hide. Do not come out until there is silence! Promise me this, my little Lotus-child. You must promise me." He gripped her hand in his and looked deep into her eyes. "Promise!" he said again.

With tears streaming down her face, Lien could only nod. Finding her voice, she mumbled, "Promise, Grandfa. …Wo ai ni."

"Wo ai ni, my Lien. I love you. Now you must go. GO!"

Cho ran through the grass and shrubs, her legs bent to stay close to the ground and avoid detection- like a large beetle scuttling toward safety from the sun. Finally she reached a huge old oak, thirty yards from the playhouse. Ducking under its spreading branches, she went around the enormous trunk until she stood between two large roots. Brushing away the dirt and leaves at the base of the tree, she revealed a small door handle. As she pulled on the handle, it was as if a piece of bark simply peeled away from the tree. It was, in fact, a small door that had been cut into the old, dead, hollow part of the tree. The open door revealed a small empty space, about four feet square and ten feet high. 

Cho crawled inside this space and closed the door behind her. She screwed her eyes shut against the yells and shouts and crackling of the fire outside, but did not stuff her fingers in her ears as she so longed to do. Perhaps if she listened and hoped and wished hard enough, she would hear yells of anger at not being able to find Grandfa. Perhaps they would leave, and he would be_ safe!___

She tried to think of all the happy times she had spent with Grandfa here on his little plot of land in this rural village. When she was little, she would pretend that this hollow room in the oak tree was in fact the lair of the Dragon from the legend of the Lotus Princess. Grandfa would be made to fit himself into the tiny space, and then come out to the shady space under the oak tree ("the hollow with the spring," Cho had proclaimed, pouring a little teapot of water out on the ground). And he would tell her again the meaning of the lotus blossom- in his best thunderous dragon voice.

Now she might never hear that voice again. The sounds outside blended into one discordant cacophony of violence. Cho tried to block out the sounds by any means possible- reciting numbers, letters, names of flowers, types of cookie. But her mind drifted helplessly back to less than an hour earlier…

She had been in the village a quarter mile from the house- Grandfa had given her some money and a list so she could do the shopping for the weekend, just like a grownup. 

"Don't spend it all on sweets!" he had admonished her with a grin. "We need some rice and soup as well as your beloved chocolate."

As she had walked down the main street of the tiny village, a group of men had burst violently out of the doors of the local tavern. 

"There she is, the yellow bastard's little bitch of a granddaughter!" roared the one in the front of the group, a tall, muscled, red-faced man who was obviously extremely drunk.

"I bet she's one o' them devils too- CATCH HER!"

The group of drunks suddenly started running towards Cho. Clutching her packages tight to her chest, she had run like a rabbit, hiding behind small houses and buildings to fool her pursuers. Then she had heard one of them scream "Let's go to the goddamn chink's house! We'll see what the devil has to say for himself… at the point of a fucking_ gun!"___

Raucous laughter poured out; the men were in the stage of drunkenness where logic and reason no longer exist. 

 Cho's blood ran to ice at the sound, and she felt as though her heart would explode with fear. Running as fast as her short legs could carry her, she cut across the fields. She didn't know what these men wanted, but something felt horribly wrong, like a poisonous taste in her mouth.

When she reached Grandfa's plot of land, the house was on fire, with the men screaming curses and waving torches. They were setting fire to everything that would burn. Trying to keep from being discovered, she had darted through the shadows, searching frantically until she finally found Grandfa in the playhouse.

Now here she sat, in the Dragon Tree. Great sobs wracked her body, all the more powerful in force because she held them inside her. As she listened, she heard Grandfa cry out; a final, ending sort of cry. Resisting the urge to rush out and help him, she clutched her Lotus pendant until the points of the petals drew blood from her palms. Tears spilled down her cheeks. 

"Promised Grandfa. Promised. Can't go. Stay. Can't help. Promised Grandfa, promised promised. Stay."

She rocked back and forth silently, knowing that her Grandfa was dead, that he would never again tickle her, or toss her high in the air until she flew like a bird. Never teach her the old magic of his homeland; never call her Lotus-child. She raised her head and looked up above her at the darkness of her sanctuary.

And as she stared up at the rough oak wood, her tears seemed suddenly to blind her, so that she saw nothing but blackness. It was not a shade or color so much as the absolute absence of light. The blackness lingered for a moment before fading slowly into a gentle, pulsing white. Nothing but white, as far as the eye could see. She reached out her arms and began to spin, spin until she grew dizzy and fell down, a crumpled little figure on the floor. 

She slowly raised her head, and there beside her in the white world was Grandfa. Not grey and terrified and soot-streaked as she had last seen him in his final hiding-place, but smiling and strong, just as she remembered him from when she was a tiny child. And Cho was no longer a nine-year-old, but herself in the present day- a petite young woman in her twenties. 

Slowly, she got to her feet. She reached out to touch Grandfa, and her hand hit solid flesh. Real. He felt _real_. He pulled her against him and hugged her.

Resting her head on his shoulder, she let out a shaky breath. "Oh, Grandfa. Why? Why did everything have to happen? Why are so many people so full of hatred that they kill and maim and hurt for no reason? I don't understand, not any of it. I lost you, I lost Cedric, I've lost so much. How am I ever to find my lotus now?" Her voice quavered as she spoke the last.

"Ah, Lien, my little Lotus-child, how you have grown and bloomed and changed. But at heart, you are still the same little girl. The answer to your question is not simple. But I know that you will never have balance or happiness if you cannot let go of your sorrow. If you let it guide you, it will only take you down a path of more misery. 

My death at the hands of the Muggles left deep scars on you, yes? You must understand, Lien- a Dark wizard told the Muggles that I was evil and causing all the illness and death in the village; that I was a demon. In his rage against me for the many Dark secrets I discovered as an Unspeakable, he manipulated the villagers' deepest, darkest fears to suit his own purposes. He stripped away their very humanity, using a mix of magic and alcohol to whip them into a blood rage until their only thought was to destroy me. So you see it was not the Muggles' fault- they did not act of their own will. This wizard wanted my end to be violent, to make a statement; and so it did. It took a team of forty Obliviators to erase the incident from the minds of the villagers and the killers themselves. The Ministry of Magic couldn't_ have such an incident get out; a crime like that hasn't happened in England for hundreds of years. The Obliviators' work made you angry."_

"Yes," Cho whispered fiercely. "Your death hurt so much, and they just calmly wiped it away like it was an unfortunate mess on the table. I wanted people to remember. I wanted them to look me in the eye and know that I had lost a part of me, to know what kind of pain I was in. I didn't want any of them ever,_ ever forget. I wanted to scream, hurt something. But the Ministry team just went about their business."_

"You wouldn't let them Obliviate you," he murmured.

"No. It would felt like… like a betrayal, somehow. An easy way out. I didn't think it was right."

"Yet if you had hoarded your pain over this forever, if you had let yourself nurture a hatred for all Muggles-it would have eaten away at your heart, like a wound that can not heal. But instead you became an Unspeakable, knowing you would have to work with and around Muggles. You forced yourself to come to terms with that pain. And so you began your collection."

"Yes," Cho murmured. "My collection. Toasters, a car, clocks, paintings and books by Muggles- all sorts of things. I thought that if I surrounded myself with their objects, I_ would be forced to see some good in them, to understand them and shed some of my anger."_

"You were already on the right track during your years at Hogwarts, Lien," said Grandfa with a proud smile. "You realized quickly how many of the Muggle-borns there you liked and respected. That, too, was a step in the healing process."

Cho simply nodded. "But that is only one of two great losses, Grandfa. How do I manage the second?"

Grandfa looked at her with a grave expression in his wise old eyes. "Yes. Your young man, your Cedric. Losing him was losing love, and that is something very important to balance. You gathered up that pain and buried it deep inside yourself, afraid that the weight of it would crush you if confronted. And perhaps, at that particular point, you were right. But all such things must come to the surface in time, and for you that time is now. Young Neville has brought your loss of Cedric back to you, hasn't he?"

"Yes," whispered Cho. "Oh, yes."

Grandfa nodded. "Your mistake in this, Lien, is in somehow thinking that grief, and the need to mourn and cry and scream, is a weakness. You believe that strength comes from not letting anything get to you. But what you must understand is that pain is meant to stay in the open until it heals. If you never acknowledge that pain, it disrupts your balance. Not that you must forget it entirely, but that you must find a way to survive and flourish without the past holding you down. This has been a hard lesson for you, as it has for many others who have borne your name. But in the end it will only add to your wisdom, your strength, and as the Dragon said, your purity. Purity of heart, stability of soul. Wo ai ni, Lotus-child."

The gentle white of the world around them began to swirl and bubble, changing into a kaleidoscope that hurt the eyes. Music rang in Cho's ears, an unknown melody of strange tones and voices. It rose into a crashing chord like waves on the shore, building and building as the colors danced, on and on and on and ON…

_ Cho sat up with a start in her own little hand-carved bed in a small flat in __London__._

_Dreaming no more.___


End file.
